


It's 10 o'clock, do you know where your First Officer is?

by shinealightonme



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alcohol, Crack, Facebook, Gen, Morning After, ain't no party like a Vulcan party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-04
Updated: 2009-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:46:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock's not sure why everyone's so amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's 10 o'clock, do you know where your First Officer is?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://eviinsanemonkey.livejournal.com/profile)[**eviinsanemonkey**](http://eviinsanemonkey.livejournal.com/) for the inspiration and the beta-read. Originally posted [on LJ](http://shinealightonme.livejournal.com/46665.html).

It was something about Vulcan physiology, some strange metabolic response to certain combinations of substances. McCoy could have explained it, if they'd asked him.

McCoy was a little surly about the fact that they hadn't asked him. "Hell, Jim, this would have made my week. Made my whole damn month," he griped.

More than a little surly, then; it probably didn't help that he'd been woken up at four in the morning for a minor medical emergency. Kirk scratched the back of his neck and flashed his best apologetic grin, though McCoy knew him well enough by now that Kirk didn't actually expect him to buy it. "Sorry, Bones, but you were threatening doom and destruction and unpleasant vaccines down on anyone who disturbed you after your shift last night."

"Yeah, well, there are exceptions," he grumbled, sorting through hyposprays as belligerently as possible, "And the chance to see Spock-the-living-computer go on a bender is always going to be one of them."

"Fine then, next time we play drinking games, you're invited," Kirk slapped Bones on the back, ignoring the resulting glare. "Feel better?"

"Assuming there is a next time," McCoy said darkly, turning his attention to the unconscious Vulcan. "I'm not even sure how you convinced him this time around; I never would've thought he had it in him."

"Well, you know," Kirk shrugged, as though it explained everything; coming from Kirk, it nearly did. As an afterthought: "He's not going to have a concussion, is he? Am I? What if I broke something?" Kirk started poking his skull experimentally, wincing.

"I could let you know that if you would stop pestering me for one damn second."

"All right, all right, I'm not actually _trying_ to bother you – "

"_That's_ the most outrageous lie I've heard you tell in, oh, five minutes – "

" – And if you're going to keep up with that attitude, I guess I don't have to show you any of the pictures we took tonight."

It was almost alarming, really, how quickly McCoy's head snapped up at that, how wide his eyes got, how evil his grin. "Pictures?"

-

It was most peculiar. Spock had often noted the rather informal, borderline insubordinate, atmosphere on the Enterprise. He had even, on occasion, commented on it, to the effect that it would better befit the officers of Starfleet's flagship to act in a more dignified manner, but the crew had never taken these observations to heart before.

Spock, therefore, wasn't quite sure what to make of it when he walked onto the bridge and Lt. Sulu, Ensign Chekov, and Commander Scott all snapped to attention, picture-perfect salutes and unwavering posture.

"Sir!" Scott barked. "Reporting for duty, sir," Chekov and Sulu were now suppressing laughter, their shaking shoulders threatening their attempt at discipline, but Scott's face was more serious than Spock had ever seen. "And may I just say that it is an _unexpected_ honor to see you here this morning?"

Spock had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and the glances the rest of the crew present were shooting at each other indicated that they didn't, either. Never one to let the absurd complexity of human humor bother him, Spock dismissed it. "As you were, Mr. Scott." Scott didn't move, though he broke out into a smile. "Mr. Sulu, Chekov, back to your posts."

"Yes, sir!" they said in unison, finally dropping their stance before returning to the helm.

"I believe you have somewhere to be?" Spock asked Scott.

"Oh, aye, I'm on my way," he answered amiably, before strolling to the turbolift, "Just in awe of your presence, sir."

"What was all that about?" Uhura asked softly, once the bridge had returned to a semblance of its usual order. "I can't even tell if they're joking. They looked so…serious."

"I cannot hazard a guess as to what might be the motivation for their uncharacteristic behavior."

"Can you make them stop? It's kind of…" she trailed off as her gaze wandered back to the helm, where Chekov and Sulu, too busy now for a repeat performance, simply settled for flashing the first officer thumbs up. "Freaky," Uhura concluded. "Definitely, definitely freaky."

"It is abnormal, but not a cause for concern."

"And when it turns out they were replaced by shape shifters who infiltrated the Enterprise to assassinate you, will that be a cause for concern?"

"The likelihood of such an event occurring is small enough to be negligible. Furthermore, any such covert operation onboard the ship would be trying to remain undetected, not draw attention to itself."

Uhura pursed her lips, apparently not satisfied with this answer, though Spock no more knew what she'd wanted to hear than he knew why he'd received such a welcome. "Right," she said drily, returning to her own station.

A most peculiar morning, indeed.

-

"Spock! Good to see you," Kirk announced, strolling onto the bridge more than a little behind schedule – he'd had one hell of a late night, after all. "You're feeling better, then? You know," he lowered his voice to a stage whisper, not wanting to deprive any eavesdroppers, "If you need the morning off, just ask. Take the whole day, if you want."

Spock raised one eyebrow, stoically conveying his opinion of sick days. "Is there some reason I should be feeling ill, captain?"

Kirk had been prepared for several possible reactions from Spock, but this wasn't one of them. "Well, I just thought – I mean, even you must get – " he snapped his fingers, "Right, of course, Bones fixed you up. He can be a real miracle worker, when he wants to be."

Spock still looked unfazed – not just unfazed, Kirk realized, but _unaware_. "I fail to see what bearing Dr. McCoy has on the present situation."

"You don't remember?" Kirk asked, outraged, before glancing over at Chekov and Sulu. They looked as surprised as he did, so at least he hadn't imagined the whole incident.

"Captain, if you fail to specify a particular event, I cannot confirm nor deny any knowledge of it."

Amusement and shock battled for dominance of Kirk's face; shock lost. "Just a minute," he excused himself, not quite managing to leave the bridge in time to stop them from hearing his laughter.

"Okay, what is going on here?" Uhura demanded. "What's had you clowns chuckling to yourselves all morning?"

The clowns left on the bridge at least had the decency to look ashamed. "Nothing," Chekov insisted, a little too quickly.

"Nothing at all," Sulu agreed, before caving slightly under the force of Uhura's stare. "Well, nothing much. Just, er – "

"Some harmless fun," Chekov filled in, "Nothing to be worried about."

"You should ask the captain," Sulu added fervently.

"It is no matter," Spock declared, and that was the end of that.

For the moment.

-

The next few hours were more productive, barring Scotty's return to the bridge, though he was quickly cowed into behaving, although not into explaining, and he returned back to his lair for good. Uhura made use of the peace to work through some knotty translations, and was making a fair amount of progress when her computer flashed an incoming message from Engineering.

_Uhura –_

_Check out Spacebook. NOW._

_– Nichols_

Uhura rolled her eyes and typed back a short message.

_Some of us actually have work to do. Go bother Scotty if you're bored, he's got it coming to him today._

She should have simply ignored the message entirely; instead, her curiosity got the best of her when she saw the reply:

_Never mind work. Do you know what your Vulcan has been getting up to?_

Glancing over first at Spock, then at the rest of the crew to ensure she wasn't being watched, Uhura signed onto Spacebook, telling herself she was just trying to solve the mystery of the giggling officers.

She wouldn't have looked if she hadn't thought she was prepared for anything she might see – this was _Spock_, after all, he wasn't exactly the scandalous type.

There is a reason one should avoid making assumptions; it helps prevent one from laughing in a most unprofessional manner during the middle of one's shift.

"Something funny, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked, so innocently that there could be no doubt that he knew what she was laughing at. The thought annoyed her enough to help her regain her composure, and she quickly closed Spacebook.

"No, Captain," she answered in her most cheerful don't-mess-with-me voice.

Kirk, miraculously enough, let it rest there, though Uhura didn't press her luck by looking at the photos again until after shift, back in her quarters. By then, they had been seen by just about everyone else in the crew, and Sulu (who was in the photos, the bastard, along with Chekov and Kirk and Scotty, no wonder they'd all been having a field day) had added commentary.

_Last night a certain Starfleet Captain undertook his most impossible mission yet – to get Commander Spock to participate in a drinking contest with some of his fellow crewmates. Yes,_ that _Commander Spock._

(A photo of Spock, solemnly dignified in his dress uniform, as though there might be some confusion about that.)

_You would think a Vulcan could hold his liquor, but you would be_ wrong. _Apparently, with just the right combination of ingredients, anything is possible. Don't believe me? Fortunately I have the data to back up my claims; check out the evidence for yourself (experiment done under controlled situations. It is not recommended that you try repeating this on your own)._

Uhura kept clicking from photo to photo in a sort of horrified fascination. It all started innocently enough with the guys playing cards, which had been, to the best of her knowledge, what had actually occurred last night.

A few photos later and Spock was standing on a table, gesturing dramatically with his arms –

_Probably the only time the word "extreme" has been used to describe Vulcan poetry._

– and then he was arguing with Scotty about something. With the aid of props. She had no idea what they were talking about until she read the caption, but it looked fairly serious.

_They should teach Warp Theory like this at the Academy. Way less accurate but a thousand times more interesting._

Arguing turned to arm wrestling, turned to ordinary wrestling, and plastered or not, Kirk should know better than that by now. Uhura almost felt sorry for him.

Oh, now that really didn't look safe; Spock was holding Chekov _over his head_, and the Ensign looked fairly terrified. Kirk was literally pounding the floor with laughter.

_I'm pretty sure he was trying to prove a point here, though I'm not sure what point that was supposed to be. It's not like it's all that hard to pick up Chekov, even without Vulcan super strength._ (Chekov had, apparently, taken offense at this, and commented that Sulu would be unable to do so, since he would have to beat Chekov in the fight that would ensue if he tried. Sulu asked if that were a challenge, and the following comments were a flurry of taunts, speculation, and outright betting from the rest of the crew.)

Flipping ahead a few pictures, she thought Spock was playing his lute, but it wasn't quite the same shape; someone else's string instrument, presumably more convenient than the one in Spock's quarters. Judging from the comments, this was even more surprising to many of the crew than the earlier images, and Uhura surmised that none of them had heard Spock lecture about the relationship between musical and mathematical principles.

That didn't quite excuse the singing, though.

_I never would have believed it, but there are_ love ballads _about logic._

Music lead, inevitably, to dancing. All five of them now, Kirk and Sulu looking as thought they might fall over at any minute, Scotty singing accompaniment (not well, judging from the narration) and – it was just too much. Uhura tried to cover her eyes but simply could not look away from the screen.

-

"Today was my eighth attempt to remove those pictures from Spacebook," Spock reported, most definitely not sounding peevish. "However, it was just as unsuccessful as my earlier efforts. Every time I take the pictures down, someone else puts them up only minutes later."

"That's too bad," Uhura consoled him. "But I guess at this rate, they're out there; there's no stopping it now."

"You may be right on that point. It would seem that the most I can do now is track which members of the crew are accessing the site, and in particular, which of them keep reposting the material in question."

Uhura's smile froze in place. "Oh."

"Apparently, _you_ have been responsible for uploading those images after the last two times I took them down."

"Well, yes," but she was quick to defend herself. "It's good for crew morale. It helps them relate to you, see you as someone more approachable, more trustworthy."

He almost would have bought it, too, if she weren't trying so hard not to laugh. "I shall never quite grasp why this is such a source of amusement to you."

"It's just unexpected, Spock. I didn't realize you knew the can-can."

-

For the following week, _everyone_ saluted Spock on sight.


End file.
